


The Drying of Tears

by DayenuRose



Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Comfort, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Flirting, Married Life, Tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 08:29:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21115766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DayenuRose/pseuds/DayenuRose
Summary: Remy comes home to find Rogue in tears. That simply won’t do.





	The Drying of Tears

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, this fic was inspired by a sketch done by my friend angel-gidget.
> 
> Find angel-gidget's lovely artwork that inspired this story [here!](https://angel-gidget.tumblr.com/post/188130492377/rogue-and-remy-for-dayenurose-pro-tip-if-youve) Enjoy!

Checking his watch as he entered their apartment, Remy grimaced. It was pushing 7:30 and he had hoped to be home over an hour ago. At least he’d remembered to call Rogue before the debriefing to let her know that he’d be late. The part of him that was done with saving the world for the day was tempted to say she was lucky that her team had finished their mission mid-afternoon. But, her team hadn’t been able to accomplish what they had set out to do. By the time his team had returned, the Mansion rumor mill was working at full force. He’d learned that not only had Rogue’s team met with unexpected resistance, one of the junior members had been injured badly enough that they needed to scrap the mission and leave the information ungathered. Though Rogue hadn’t been leading the team, Remy knew his wife would have taken the whole fiasco hard.  
  
Wanting to get home before the leadership team had the opportunity to gather and discuss their options for completing said mission, Remy had slipped out of the Mansion without any of them noticing he had disappeared. Since the X-men still needed the data and the original plans had obviously failed, Remy had the sneaking suspicion that it wouldn't be long before someone would be calling to send him out to retrieve the unobtained information. They would want to try something more stealthy, especially now that the files would be under tighter scrutiny.  
  
Until that happened, Remy was determined to spend some quality time with his wife. Hopefully it would be a few hours before the others realized he had absconded from the Mansion. With a heavy sigh, Remy hung his duster in the foyer closer and tapped his jeans pocket, checking for the reassuring, ubiquitous presence of his deck of cards. If that call came as he predicted, he wondered if he could talk them into sending Rogue with him. It had been too long since the two of them had gone out on a mission together. At the thought of working with his beloved wife again, Remy grinned. And, if it was only the two of them, it would be almost like date night.  
  
Just as quickly as it appeared, the grin faltered. He might be a master at the art of a silent entrance, but the apartment was entirely too quiet for his liking. When he’d called home earlier, Rogue had assured him that she would be here when he arrived. He paused in his progress across the room and scooped up Figaro who had wound his way around Remy’s feet in a valiant attempt to trip the thief. Remy scritched Figaro behind the ears. “Have you seen Rogue, petit?”  
  
The white cat mewed in protest and escaped from Remy’s arms the moment the hold relaxed. Remy turned to the other cats. Unfortunately, neither of them appeared any more inclined to answer. Or, leave their perches along the back of the couch and greet him. Lucifer purred and flicked his tail as Remy petted the cat’s silky, orange fur. Oliver, the last of the feline trio, leapt from his perch and sauntered further into the apartment.  
  
“Where you off t’ in such a hurry? Off to find ma colombe?” Remy queried more to himself than the retreating grey back.  
  
“Remy? That you sugah?” Rogue called from the other room. A muffled sniffling punctuated her greeting. The slight sound sent a sharp pang through Remy and straight to his heart.  
  
“Oui.” Remy dashed through the apartment in search of his wife, only slowing as he entered the room where she worked with her back turned towards the doorway. Though she was certainly aware of his presence in the room, she didn’t turn or greet him. Instead, she muttered dark curses as she continued to work. In a matter of a few long strides, Remy closed the distance.  
  
“What’s wrong, mon coeur?”Remy wrapped his arms around her waist and murmured in a low, rich timbre.  
  
Rogue squealed at his sudden approach and whirled around. She brandished a knife in her hands and held it menacingly in the space between them.  
  
“Remy.” She blinked back tears and dropped the knife behind her where she’d been working. “What do ya think you’re doin’? Ah could have cut ya.”  
  
“Non, I trust you.” Remy released her and, with a glove covered knuckle, he gently brushed away a stray tear trickling down her cheek. “What’s wrong ma colombe?”  
  
She rolled her eyes hard and leaned back from his touch. “Nothin’. Now leave me be Cajun, or…”  
  
He cupped her cheek and stared deep into her eyes. She wrapped her hands around his wrist and attempted to push his hand away in token protest. Leaning in, he kissed her cheek where the tears had left salty trails. “Your tears are never ‘nothin’.”  
  
Rogue groped along the workspace behind her until she found what she wanted. With a flick, she snapped at Remy’s arm with a dishtowel. The towel furled around his bicep as she gave it a tug, both pulling him closer and releasing the damp fabric.  
  
“Ya’re incorrigible swamp rat.” Rogue grinned at her husband and wiped the remaining tears from her eyes. “Ah’m choppin’ up onions. That’s all.”  
  
“I know.” Remy leaned in and kissed her soundly on the lips. Never losing contact, his hands drifted down her sides until he once more circled her waist. His finger played at the waistband of her jeans. The kitchen was already warm with the pre-heating oven and sizzling skillet which required attention, but the homey warmth of the room was nothing compared to the fire smoldering between the couple. As they kissed, Remy maneuvered them around until he was the one standing with his back pressed to the counter. The fire in his red eyes sparked with mischief. “An’ I promise t’ always save you from dat most pungent o’ vegetables.”  
  
Rogue laughed. Her green eyes glistened like sparkling emeralds. “Fine. If ya want to play Sir Galahad, ya get to help.” She reached around him to retrieve the knife from the cutting board and placed it in his hands. “Start choppin’. When ya finish with the onions, ya can start on the celery…”  
  
“Oui.” His fingers moved skillfully along the cutting board as he rapidly minced the onions.  
  
“Good. Now, if ya want a dinner that’s served at a reasonable hour, and…” Rogue turned the heat down under the skillet, “…not burnt, ya’ll keep your hands to yourself. Got it, sugah?”  
  
“D’accord.” Remy feigned a pout. “Course, you know, de same t’ing goes for you next time it’s my turn to cook.”  
  
“We’ll see.” Rogue grinned and gave him a saucy wink. Remy groaned. Dinner was definitely going to be late tonight. 


End file.
